The Truth Shouldn't Hurt
by Nyiestra
Summary: When Frank Hardy is found unconscious in an alley, his family and friends realize he’s got a secret that he isn’t ready to reveal.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Truth Shouldn't Hurt

**Summary:** When Frank Hardy is found unconscious in an alley, his family and friends realize he's got a secret that he isn't ready to reveal.

**Rating: **T

**Notes:** This is a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover. It is also non-graphic slash.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hardys, the Drews, their friends, or anything else recognizable.

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Frank Hardy stifled a cry as he sank down on his knees, doubled over in pain. As one of his assailants lashed out again, sending a booted foot into his chest, his attackers taunts played over and over in his mind.

He landed half on his back, half on his side, curled up, tears of pain that he could not stem running down his cheeks, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of making so much as a sound. A flurry of blows landed on his back, his sides, his legs and arms – until one mercifully snapped his head back against the concrete of the alley. He blinked, spots of light dancing through the darkness in front of his eyes before fading into utter blackness.

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"Hardy residence," Joe answered the phone almost automatically. Damn thing had been ringing off the hook all night; he was starting to feel like he was sitting behind the desk at Grand Central Station.

"Joe? This is Con Riley. Your parents around?"

Joe's stomach did a somersault, even though the officer hadn't said anything yet. "They went out to dinner." He paused, barely managing to keep the worry out of his voice. "What is it, Con?"

Riley hesitated. "Frank was found in an alley off of Temple Street. He's unconscious and pretty banged up. Ambulance should be reaching Bayport General right about now."

"How bad?" Joe gripped the back of the nearest chair so hard his knuckles had gone white.

"I can only guess, Joe."

"How bad?" he repeated.

"I'd say a concussion, broken arm, cracked ribs. I think he'll be okay, Joe. But I'm no doctor, and I only saw him as they were putting him in the ambulance."

"Meet me at the hospital?"

"I'm on my way now."

"Good." Unceremoniously, Joe hung up and grabbed his cell phone and keys and headed for the door. He could call his parents from the road.

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Fenton Hardy glanced quickly around the emergency room lobby, eyes finally lighting on his younger son. "Over there," he murmured, taking his wife's arm. "Joe!"

The blonde looked up at him, face pale, hair out of place. "Hey, Dad, Mom." Joe gave his mother a quick hug. "The nurse said a doctor would be out in a couple minutes. And Con's around somewhere… he went to get a coffee or something."

"What happened, Joe?" Laura asked, taking their son's hand and sitting down, pulling Joe down with her.

"All I know is it looks like he got jumped in an alley. No leads, no witnesses. Con said he thinks he'll be okay, but he only saw him for a minute or two, when they were loading him into the ambulance."

Fenton frowned, but nodded, glancing past to the uniformed officer making his way toward them. Holding out a hand, he shook Riley's firmly and asked, "Do you know anything?"

To his dismay, Con just shook his head. "No one saw him go into the alley; no one even saw him anywhere near it. Estimate is that he was there ten or fifteen minutes before he was found."

"Weapons used?" Fenton resisted the urge to take his notebook out of his pocket; Laura would leave _him_ unconscious in an alley if she thought he was treating their son's attack like any old case. Besides, it wasn't as if he'd have trouble remembering what Con was telling him. This _was_ their son after all.

"Hands and feet, looks like. Bruising, cuts from hitting the ground, but no bullet wound, no signs that a knife or anything of the sort was used." Fenton saw his wife wince out of the corner of his eye, and a little more color drained from Joe's face.

"Frank Hardy?" A voice behind him caught his attention, and he turned as Laura and Joe stood.

"Right here, Doctor…"

"Galvin." The physician, young with black hair and a friendly, unassuming face, shook Fenton's hand. "You're Frank's father?"

"I am. This is my wife Laura and my younger son Joe." He stepped aside as he made the introductions.

"How is our son?" Laura asked softly.

"He's awake, and asking for you. You can see him in a moment, but let me brief you quickly on his injuries." The doctor sat down, motioning for the others to do the same, and Fenton decided he liked the man.

"Frank sustained a concussion; he took a hard blow to the back of the head and lost a lot of blood. I'm mildly concerned about that, but the fact that he's regained consciousness already is a good sign – as I'm sure you know, given his medical history." Fenton gave him a rueful smile. They were intimately familiar with the nature of concussions; both boys had had more than their fair share of head injuries.

"He also has a broken arm – his left – and two broken, two cracked, and several bruised ribs. Massive bruising on his back and stomach, and more bruises, though less concentrated, on his arms and legs. I've set his arm, and it should heal without complications."

"Doctor, after his family visits with him, will I be able to talk to him?" Riley spoke up. "The sooner we find out what happened, the better off everyone will be."

"You can, but he's on pain medication, so I don't know how coherent he'll be at the moment."

"Anything will be better than what we've got at the moment."

Joe raised an eyebrow at Con. "You haven't seen Frank hopped up on painkillers before, have you?" Fenton couldn't hold back a laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation.

Even Doctor Galvin smiled at that. "Frank is in Exam Three," he said, stepping back and gesturing for them to go on ahead.

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Joe bounded into the room, skidding to a stop by Frank's bedside, not phased in the least by all the equipment and tubes and wires. "Getting into fights without me, big brother?" he chastised, folding his arms across his chest. "That isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," Frank mumbled. "You'll get used to it."

"No I won't," Joe retorted, then quieted. "How you feeling, Frank?" he asked softly, perching on the edge of the hospital bed.

"Like I got hit by a truck," his older brother muttered. "Did I?"

Joe frowned, glancing over his shoulder at his father, then looked back at Frank. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Was a joke, Joe." Frank reached futilely for Joe's hand. Noticing his brother's movement, Joe took Frank's hand, squeezing it lightly.

"Frank, what happened? Do you know who attacked you?" Joe kept his voice soft, knowing that even with the meds, it wouldn't take much for Frank's head to feel like it was going to explode. "Do you know why?"

A strange expression passed over Frank's face, then he shook his head. "Don't know who."

"But you know why?" Joe asked, his stomach turning over on itself once more.

Frank started to nod, but then shook his head. "No. No, I don't know."

"Yes you do." Resting a hand on Frank's shoulder, Joe gave his brother an encouraging smile. "Why'd they jump you? What did they say to you?"

"N-nothing," Frank stammered. "Didn't say anything."

Joe shifted and looked over at his father. Judging by the look on his face he, too, had picked up on the fact that Frank was hiding something. "Frank, no one's going to hurt you; we just want to know why this happened, so we can catch the people responsible."

"N-no." The older Hardy boy shook his head. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Joe studied his brother's face. He knew Frank well enough to know he was hiding something. He knew why he'd been attacked; hell, he'd damn near admitted it himself.

"Stop it, Joe." The pitch of Frank's voice changed and he turned away. "I don't know."

Joe felt hands on his shoulders and turned as his father gestured for him to step aside. Together, they moved toward the wall, allowing their mother to take Joe's spot next to Frank.

"It's okay, sweetie," she said gently, taking his hand. "No one's going to hurt you; we just want to know what happened, that's all."

Frank just shook his head, pulling away from their mother, and Joe sighed, seeing the slightly stunned expression on her face. "All right, baby," she said softly, leaning over and giving Frank a gentle kiss on the forehead.

His father's hand left Joe's shoulder just then and their dad stepped forward. "Con Riley wants to speak with you. At least tell him what happened, son," he said gently, but Frank seemed to be in the mood to display some of the famous Hardy stubbornness.

"I don't know."

"Frank, you can't withhold information from the police." Joe searched his dad's face, trying to discern what the older man was thinking at the moment, but came up empty. It was from him that Frank had garnered the ability to conceal his emotions so well.

As if on cue, the door opened and Con poked his head in. "The doctor said they're getting ready to move Frank to a normal room. Any chance I can talk to him for a minute before they do that?"

"Good luck," Joe muttered, casting one more glance at Frank before stepping around Riley and walking out of the room. He heard his mother tell Frank they'd be back, and his father admonish him to cooperate with Con. _Sure. Right._

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Fenton looked up when the door to Frank's room opened and Con came out. "He tell you anything?"

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be asking me if he _could_ tell me anything?"

"No," Joe mumbled, and Fenton shot his son a look.

"Cool it," he warned him, narrowing his eyes slightly before returning his attention to Riley. "_Did_ he tell you anything?"

"No. It's fairly clear to me that he _does_ know something, but he isn't talking." Con shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, pocketing his notepad. "Fenton, a moment?"

Nodding, he moved away, Con following behind. When they were safely out of earshot, Riley said softly, "I don't need to tell you how this will look. Your boys make a habit of telling us _more_ than we ever wanted to know _whenever_ something happens. That Frank isn't talking now, that he's obviously hiding something… it doesn't look good."

Fenton's eyes narrowed. "Exactly how do you think this is going to look?"

"It's going to look like Frank's into something he doesn't want us to know about. A beating in an alley, Fenton? If this were some case a parent brought to you, what would you think? Right off, without looking into it?"

"Drugs," he answered softly. "Maybe drinking. Gambling…"

"And once you talked to the kid and got nowhere…"

"I'd be even more sure," Fenton sighed. "But this is Frank; he wouldn't…"

"I know." Con shook his head. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I'm going to stick with this investigation, and I'll do what I can. But if people think that Frank's hiding something…"

Fenton nodded. "Thanks. Keep me informed."

"I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:** This is a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover. It is also non-graphic slash.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hardys, the Drews, their friends, or anything else recognizable.

**A/N:** Do not expect updates this frequently. I'm on vacation from work, so I have some time on my hands that I normally wouldn't.

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**Nikki – **It's one of those three. Which, I'm not telling. :-P You'll find out soon, though… one or two chapters from this. And thanks!

**Red Hardy** – People will figure it out, I promise… but not by Frank telling them. :looks mysterious:

**Cariluv** – Thanks! As for what Frank's hiding, the secret will come out, a little too soon for his comfort…

**Haley** – :-D I've written a lot of fanfiction, just not Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew before. I do tend to make the characters a bit more serious than they appear in the books, but… :)

**Lady Emily** – Thank you. I try to keep it clean, and spell check is my best friend.

**Nancy Nickerson** – Nancy shows up… :drumroll: …now :) Well, sort of... she _is_ in this chapter.

**Valin **– Thanks, kiddo :hugs: And I'm not being _that_ abusive to them… yet :devil:

**Little Kachina Whoa **– Thanks :is honored:

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**Chapter 2**

Joe glanced at the dishwasher, the red light indicating they were clean, then dumped his dishes in the sink. He could empty it later. Or mom would. She tended to go on cleaning frenzies when he or Frank was in the hospital, since dad wouldn't let her stay there 24/7.

He dropped back down into his chair, glancing at his watch. His father should be back from the police station in an hour or so, and then they'd head over to see Frank, try to talk him into opening up.

Sighing, he toyed with the placemat in front of him. He believed his brother that he didn't know who had attacked him, but not that he didn't know why. He knew Frank; the number of cases they'd been on together had honed their ability to communicate with each other with the most cryptic of comments, with body language – even just with their eyes. And yesterday, he'd seen in his brother's eyes that Frank was lying through his teeth.

He just couldn't understand why.

The ringing of the telephone dragged him out of his thoughts, away from the image of his brother's battered face and frightened expression. "I'll get it," he yelled for his mother's benefit, rising and grabbing the nearest extension. "Hello?"

"Is this Joe?" a familiar female voice asked, but Joe was too tired and strung out to place it right away.

"Yes." He paused, thinking for a moment, then gave up. "Who's this?"

"Joe, it's Nancy. Nancy Drew. How are you?"

The younger Hardy ran a hand through his hair, debating whether or not to tell Nancy what was happening. He decided he might as well; she knew Frank pretty well, and might be able to give him a new perspective. "Been better." He thought about going back to the chair but instead sat down where he was, leaning against the wall.

Nancy's manner changed instantly, her voice taking on the all-business tone he recognized from the cases they'd worked together. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is Frank? Your parents?"

Despite himself, Joe chuckled at her rapid-fire questions. "Mom and dad and I are fine. Frank, on the other hand…" He trailed off, shaking his head before remembering she couldn't see him on the other end of the line. "Not so much. He took a pretty bad beating last night, and he knows why it happened, but he won't tell me or dad – or the police. The cops are looking into it, but Con Riley – he's a friend of ours, and dad's – thinks they're going to end up shelving it, because with Frank not talking, it looks…"

"Like he's into something illegal?" Nancy finished for him. He could almost hear her frown. "You know he's not."

Joe sighed. "Yeah, I know. And dad does, and mom. And so does Con, and the Chief, I think. But…" he shrugged mentally and sighed again.

"Do you have any other leads? Anything other than whatever Frank isn't saying?"

"Not a thing. Somebody grabbed him leaving – of all places – the library. Con got that much out of him. And some wino found him down an alley a few hundred yards away. Broken, cracked ribs, broken arm, and a concussion."

"Are you positive he even knows? Maybe he doesn't remember and doesn't want you to know that?"

"No," Joe replied, stretching his legs out in front of him. "He remembers. You can see it in his face. He's… he's hiding something, Nan." Joe heard his voice waver slightly and he shook his head, deciding to change the subject. "But this isn't why you called."

"No, but I'm glad I did." Nancy paused. "My father has to go to New York. His flight is leaving this afternoon and he asked me if I wanted to come with. I was calling to see if you guys would be around. I take it you will be?"

Joe scoffed. "Yeah. We aren't going anywhere. Dad's threatening to not let Frank out of the house until he tells him what happened."

"Frank must be frustrated."

"That's the strange part. He doesn't seem to care. When dad said that, he just nodded and turned away."

"That doesn't sound like him."

"_None_ of this sounds like him," Joe snapped, then hung his head. "Sorry, Nan. I'm just…"

"No apology necessary," she replied warmly. "I understand."

"He's scared of something," he said softly.

"Wouldn't you be?" Nancy asked pointedly. "He _was_ just attacked, Joe."

"I know. But I don't think it's that. It feels like he's afraid of me, or dad. Or the cops. It just doesn't seem like he's afraid of whoever attacked him. And, unless there's something really weird going on, it doesn't make sense to me that he even would be. Frank's been in fights before, been jumped for no reason – well, what seemed like no reason at the time, anyway. And these guys weren't trying to kill him; his injuries aren't bad enough for that." Joe shook his head. "No, I really think he's afraid of us finding out whatever it is he's hiding."

Nancy was quiet for a long moment, so long that Joe was starting to wonder if they'd gotten disconnected when she finally spoke. "Joe, asking as a detective… what are your instincts saying?"

"That he's in trouble. That he's breaking the law. That's he on drugs or… _something_. I don't know, Nan. But I know he wouldn't do that. He'd at least come to me, if not mom and dad. I _know_ he would."

"How? How do you know he wouldn't try to deal with it on his own?"

He hesitated, glancing toward the doorway. At that moment, he heard the vacuum turn on upstairs. No chance of their mother overhearing, at least. "When he was sixteen, he got into that accident, on his bike… you remember?" It was a hit-and-run. A car had sideswiped Frank not far from their house, not hard enough to kill him, but enough to leave him in serious pain for a long time afterward.

"I remember."

"They put him on Vicodin. After about a week on that stuff, he was starting to get worried, because he wasn't hurting nearly as much anymore, but he still wanted it, and the doctors were still giving it to him. He wasn't addicted, not really, and he wasn't doing anything wrong, but he thought he was heading for trouble and he came to me. Asked me what he should do, even asked _me_ to keep an eye on _him_!"

He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I know he'd have come to me, Nan."

"Joe, in that situation, he wasn't in trouble. But what if now, he is? What if he's in over his head, and doesn't want to put that on you?"

"Nancy, he'd come to me!"

Joe could almost picture her holding up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just playing devil's advocate, trying to see how sure you were." She went quiet again, and he could imagine the wheels turning in her mind. "I'm going to fly out with my father; I'll rent a car in New York and drive out. Maybe together, we can figure this out? Or maybe I can get Frank to talk to me?"

Now he understood why Frank must like planning so much. Listening to Nancy outline like that made him feel a little better, like they were at least doing something, rather than sitting around feeling frustrated. "Sounds good."

"Oh, and Joe? Have you tried talking to Callie? Maybe she'd have better luck? Or maybe she'd have an idea what's going on?"

"They broke up… months ago, actually."

Nancy was silent for a second. "I didn't know."

"Well, you were out of the country when it happened, then we were, and we haven't gotten together in a long time…" Joe trailed off. "Neither of them seemed that upset about it, and Frank put it behind him pretty quickly. Nan—"

She interrupted him. "It's fine, Joe. I'm just surprised, that's all."

He frowned. "All right." At that moment, a car pulled into the driveway. Hauling himself to his feet, Joe stretched the phone cord to its limit, leaving the kitchen so he could look outside. "Listen, Nancy, my dad's home early. I gotta go, but I'll let everyone know you'll be coming by. You have my cell, right? In case no one's home when you get here?"

"Yeah. I'll call when I'm about to hit Bayport, and you can tell me where I should head."

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you later. And, Nan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

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Frank eyed Joe warily as his younger brother sat down in one of the chairs, raising his feet and resting them on the metal frame of the bed. "What's up, bro?" Joe asked cheerily.

"Not me," he muttered. He wanted to get out of this bed, out of the hospital, away from the nurses and the doctors and the constant beeping of all the machines. He wanted to be at home, in his room, where he could lock the door and not have to deal with anyone if he didn't want to. "Why are _you_ in such a good mood?"

"Nancy's coming to visit," he replied.

Frank's eyes narrowed. "Called in reinforcements?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice – and failing miserably.

Joe looked at him askance and rolled his eyes. "No. Her dad is going to be in New York on business. _She_ called _us_ looking to see if we'd be around, wanting to get together. Chill out, bro. You're acting like you've got something to hide."

He didn't mistake the tone in Joe's voice, nor the look in his eyes, and glared. "Can it, Joe."

"No. Frank, tell me what's going on! You've _always_ trusted me. Why not now?"

"Because it's none of your business."

"Ah ha. So you admit you know something!"

_Dammit._ "Joe, please…"

"I'll lay off, when you give me a reason to."

"I… I'm not doing anything wrong, Joe. I just… you've always trusted me, too." Frank swallowed hard as the frustration on his brother's face gave way to sadness.

"Yeah, I have. But you've never lied to me before. You've never kept secrets from me before. What do you expect?"

"Please, Joe. This… this is personal, and I'll tell you. Eventually. Just not yet."

"Frank, someone beat the crap out of you, in _case_ you hadn't noticed," Joe replied testily, waving a hand toward the monitors beside the bed. "You are in a _hospital_. Personal or not, this is obviously something you can't deal with by yourself. And it _is_ my business, because you're my brother and anybody who messes with you gets the honor of messing with me, too. And I'm not as nice as you are."

In spite of himself, Frank cracked a smile. That was one of – just one of – the things he loved about Joe. He couldn't count anymore the number of times they'd been in trouble, literally hours, minutes, seconds away from death, but Joe had always been able to make him laugh, to ease some of the tension. He knew that Joe thought his sense of humor made people – Frank and their father included – not take him seriously. But it was one of things he valued most about his little brother. "Thanks."

"Seriously, though, Frank. What are you afraid of?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Frank stared at Joe as a little voice in his mind scolded him to just tell him and be done with it. _He won't care. He'll help. You'll feel better if you tell someone._ But he couldn't shake the worry that he'd be letting Joe down somehow. "Not now, Joe. I'm sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** This is a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover. It is also non-graphic slash.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hardys, the Drews, their friends, or anything else recognizable.

**A/N:** Do not expect updates this frequently. I'm on vacation from work, so I have some time on my hands that I normally wouldn't.

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**Lady Emily –** Thanks! Here's your update :)

**Myra – **Thank you. :hugs: And I don't think I intend to be _that_ evil in this… not in line with Pain or WWMB, for example.

**Valin – **I intend to. :-P

**Julzprice – **Hope you survived chemistry ;) And, well, you're going to find out very soon what Frank's hiding. Here's your update, so you can breathe again :)

**Katie Janeway – **No apologies necessary, though I won't deny that I love the reviews :-D Thank you

**Angry penguin - **:whistles: Well, you'll see…

**Caleb – **Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet for cliffies ;) I love them, use them endlessly. And they do just keep getting worse.

**Red Hardy – **What did you think had happened? I'm curious now :-P I love writing conversations between the boys. Their dynamic is so much fun, even when – hell, especially when – they aren't getting along :-D

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**Chapter 3**

"Hey." Nancy let the door to Frank's room close behind her. "Seen better days, huh?"

"A few," he said, his voice absent the sparkle she was used to hearing when they got together for a case when they hadn't seen each other for a while. "I'm not going to be much company, Nan."

"Who said I was looking for company?" she asked gently, moving toward the bed and sitting down on the side. She reached over and brushed his hair out of his face. "Joe tells me you might be in some trouble."

Frank's eyes narrowed. "He told me he didn't call you!"

"He didn't." Nancy arched an eyebrow. "But are you really one to be getting all angry at people for _maybe_ lying to you?"

He had the good grace to look abashed. "Sorry."

She took his hand, squeezing it lightly. "A lot of people are pretty worried about you. Your parents, Joe, some of you friends… me."

"Don't be."

Nancy gave him a pointed look. "You _aren't_ serious. You're incapable of _not _worrying about Joe if it even looks like he's in trouble, and now you're lying to your parents – and the police – and you expect us not to worry about you?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't. Frank, you're _lying_ to the _police_, and not in the 'no, officer, I'm staying out of this investigation completely' kind of way. You're hiding things from your parents, from _Joe_. This isn't like you. At all. Can't you see why we're so worried?"

When Frank shook his head and turned away, she decided to take another approach. "Right now the assumption is that you're into something illegal, Frank. Probably drugs. And for that—"

The older Hardy jerked his head around. "What? Nancy, you know—"

It was her turn to interrupt. "You want to know what I know? I know you'd never lie to Joe. I know that you'd never let someone get away with a crime just because you were scared. You're right. I know you'd never use drugs, or deal, or whatever. But, well, looking at where we stand with the first two, it's sort of shaking my faith in the third."

Frank closed his eyes, pulling his hand away from hers. When he opened them again, the defiance was gone, replaced with pain. "Nancy, I swear – I swear on Joe's life – that this has nothing to do with drugs. I'm not breaking the law at all."

"Withholding—"

"Stop it, Nancy. Believe me or not. I don't care." But she could tell from the look in his eyes that he did.

"Fine. Have it your way." Without another word, she turned and left.

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"Any luck?" Joe asked, hopping to his feet when he saw her heading down the hall in his direction.

"Well, he swears on your life that he's not doing anything illegal."

"Withholding—"

Nancy gave a short laugh. "I tried that. He told me I could believe him or not, he didn't care. He does, but…" she shrugged. "After that I gave up and left."

"And?"

"I believe him."

"Any ideas?"

"A few." Nancy dropped into a chair and Joe sat back down beside her. "He's scared, which means he's scared _for_ someone. Question is who. And right now, everyone is assuming he's afraid for himself. But what if he isn't?"

"You think maybe he's protecting someone else?"

"If someone threatened you or your parents – or even your friends – and threatened to kill whoever it was if he told anyone… would he tell you?"

"Our friends, yeah. Mom and dad… maybe. Me…" Joe shook his head. "Probably not. He's a stubborn jackass like that." When Nancy smirked at him, he ducked his head. "Just like me."

They sat in silence for a second before he asked her, "You really think that's it?"

"No."

"Me either. Why don't you?"

"Because I don't see Frank reacting like this to something like that. He'd be scared, yeah. But there'd be more anger. And I don't see him just rolling over like this. He'd be planning something." She paused. "Your turn."

"I just don't think he'd have lied. I think he'd have told us flat out that something was up but he'd handle it, and he'd let us know if we could help. He wouldn't ever actually let us know, but he'd say he would. Because he knows that the less he tells me the more I'm going to try to find out what the hell is going on."

"Square one," Nancy muttered.

"Square one."

Nancy sagged back in the chair, resting her head on Joe's shoulder. "I'm out of ideas at the moment."

"We may have something."

Joe jerked his head up, hearing Nancy's "Ow!" as she straightened as well. Glancing over at her, he saw her scowl.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah." She raised a hand to rub her neck and then massage the side of her head as he turned toward his father.

"What?"

"Another young man, someone in your class at school, was beaten early this morning. He was brought in around three am."

"You think it's the same people who went after Frank?"

"Might be. We don't know yet. Con's going to call us if he comes up with anything. They're talking to the parents now."

Joe watched his father's eyes shift toward Nancy. "Did you have any luck talking to Frank?"

"Came up empty. He's not talking."

Fenton ran a hand through his hair. "All right. Why don't you two head home? Visiting hours aren't over yet, but I don't see a point in any of us staying around here."

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Joe carried his brother's bag up the stairs, setting it at the foot of his bed, then headed back out into the hall. He watched Frank move slowly up the steps, clinging to the railing, probably fighting off another dizzy spell. Part of him wanted to help him, put an arm around his back and give him something to lean on. But the other part of him – probably a little childish, he had to admit – decided that he didn't want to help Frank.

After all, his older brother had made it clear that he didn't want his help right now. Or, possibly, anytime soon.

Almost at the top of the stairs, Frank raised his eyes, meeting Joe's for just a second before he looked away. Joe stepped aside and Frank passed him, heading straight for his room, not saying a word.

Joe stared at his brother's closed door for a moment before turning and walking into his own bedroom, flopping down on the bed. Frank had been released around three – right around the time Con had shown up at the hospital to inform the Hardys that another Bayport High student had been assaulted. At their father's urging, Con and come into Frank's room to deliver the news.

They wanted to see how Frank would react to the information, and it had both paid off and not. He'd visibly started, convincing Joe that Frank suspected the attacks were related. But it hadn't prompted his brother to open up in the least.

"Damn it, Frank." Joe rolled over and punched his pillow. "Talk to me, you stubborn…"

He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of the attacks being connected. That just further suggested that Frank was mixed up in something he shouldn't be. But, at least they might have a chance at figuring out what was going on now, since Frank seemed less than inclined to suddenly start singing.

Plus, with other kids involved, the police couldn't decide to shelve the case because the victim was one uncooperative potential druggie – which was the feeling he'd been getting from the police he'd been in contact with over the last couple days.

"Joe!" At his mother's shout, he rolled back over and sat up.

"Coming," he muttered, heading for the door.

-------------------------

Nancy slipped her and Joe's plates into their spots in the dishwasher, jumping when the phone rang. "Joe?" she shouted. As far as she knew, Frank was asleep.

"I got it," he called back. A second later she heard his muffled, "Hello?"

Turning back around, she surveyed the table, moving to push both their chairs in. Fenton and Laura had gone to pick up Gertrude Hardy from the bus station. They'd tried to talk her out of coming, fearing that her heavy-handedness wouldn't help the situation. But she'd have none of it and had, in fact, purchased her ticket before even talking to them about it.

She wiped down the counter with a cloth and then draped it over the faucet before heading into the living room. Joe was just hanging up the phone. "Nan, I'm going to head over to Vanessa's for a while." He looked a little uncertain. "Do you mind?"

"No, of course not. Go ahead. You deserve a break." She'd lost count of the number of times she'd seen him standing outside his brother's room, staring at the closed door.

"Let me know if Con – or anybody – calls? Or if Frank suddenly decides to spill?"

She gave him a rueful smile. "Somehow, I don't see that happening in the near future, but I'll let you know."

"Thanks." Joe headed upstairs and Nancy headed for the couch. A few minutes later he came back down, jacket slung over his shoulder. "I won't be out too long, Nan."

"Be careful, Joe. We still don't know why—"

The younger Hardy grinned. "Eyes in the back of my head, Nan."

She snickered. "But will they be open, is the question."

"Always."

"Right." Nancy watched him leave and then, as the door closed behind him, turned on the television.

Spending the next fifteen minutes flipping through the stations repeatedly, she finally gave up, leaving it on a music channel while her mind drifted over the conversations she'd had with Frank and Joe in the last day.

She believed in her heart that Frank wasn't involved in anything illegal. She could see his fear in his eyes, and didn't believe she'd be seeing that if what he was worried about was someone finding out he'd committed a crime or something.

Nancy sighed. Part of what bothered her – and, she suspected, Joe – so much wasn't just the deception. It was that she wasn't used to seeing him afraid, and it unnerved her. She found it especially unsettling that he seemed to be afraid of his parents and Joe.

The Hardys were the perfect family; the boys had always been able to go to their parents with anything. And the fact that, suddenly, Frank obviously didn't feel he could talk to anyone about whatever was going on made her nervous.

The ringing of the telephone jerked her out of her thoughts. Standing up, she crossed the floor quickly. "Hardy residence."

"Fenton Hardy please."

"He's… unavailable at the moment."

"Is Laura in?"

"No, she's not." Nancy frowned. "Who's calling?"

There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. "_Officer_ Con Riley."

Nancy snickered. "This is Nancy Drew, Officer Riley." She'd met the man upon her arrival at the hospital earlier that day. "Do you always sound this suspicious?"

"My apologies, Miss Drew. I was a bit concerned with how vague you were about the Hardy's whereabouts."

"I was a bit concerned with who was looking for them. A friend of mine _has_ been attacked," she reminded him. Con chuckled and she redirected the conversation. "Did you find anything out about the other two attacks?"

"We may have."

She frowned. "_May_ have?"

Riley hesitated again. "I really need to speak directly to Mr. and Mrs. Hardy."

"Is that your way of saying you won't tell me?" Nancy padded back toward the couch, phone still to her ear. "Part of why I'm here is to help try to find out what's going on, officer."

She heard his sigh, followed by a shallow laugh. "Do I have you to thank for Frank and Joe's persistence? Or did they train you?"

"My father's a lawyer," Nancy responded, chuckling. After a second, though, she grew serious. "What do you have?"

"We found something that the two other students who were attacked have in common."

"Something that Frank has in common with them?" she asked, toying with the phone cord.

"Maybe. I don't know for sure."

"Riley, what—"

"They're both gay, one openly, and one has only a few friends and family members who know."

Con's words hung in the air and Nancy's eyes went wide. "Oh boy."

"Miss Drew, do you know—"

"I… have no idea. I wouldn't think, but… oh boy." Nancy glanced toward the ceiling under Frank's room. "Could… could you give me some time to talk to Frank, before you tell his parents what you've got? Please?"

"I—"

She could tell from the tone of his voice what he was going to say, and cut him off. "Frank's an adult. He's of legal age, and he has his rights. Please, give me some time to talk to him?"

After a long silence he finally replied, "I can't give you long. If it's true and Frank talks to us and doesn't want anything said, we can do that. But he has to talk. Otherwise, I have no choice but to go to his parents."

Nancy was struck by the compassion in Riley's voice. He seemed to have developed an affection for the Hardys somewhere along the line. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"You're welcome. Miss Drew, I think you and I have reached the same conclusion. Please let Frank know that I don't care. I just want to catch these people before someone gets hurt worse."

"I will. And thank you," she repeated. Hearing the click on Riley's end, she rose to hang up the phone, then stopped at the bottom of the stairs, just staring up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** This is a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover. It is also non-graphic slash.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hardys, the Drews, their friends, or anything else recognizable.

**A/N:** Do not expect updates this frequently. I'm on vacation from work, so I have some time on my hands that I normally wouldn't.

* * *

** Myra – **Hopefully Nancy and Frank's conversation won't be too anticlimactic for you ;)

**TanukiImbreed – **Well, this update wasn't as fast as the others, but I hope you like it as much :)

**Tati1 – **Well, um, you'll just have to wait and see ;) Though I can say that my current intention is _not _for this to be a short fic. As for how the attackers would know, if this is the case, well…

**Katie Janeway – **But who will it be more awkward for, is the question?

**Angry penguin – **Get it over with, hmm? Okay :-P

**Red Hardy – **lol! As for Frank being afraid to talk to his parents and Joe… there's a reason, I promise.

**Julzprice – **Questions are good. I like questions. It means I have you thinking ;) And glad to hear about chem.

**Lady Emily – **Hopefully it lives up to your expectations. I'm not really sure I like how it went, though, so… :crosses fingers:

**Belladonna – **That _is _the reason indeed...

**Valin – **Yes, I'll bet you are :-P

**Wilwarin Breila – **ooh, you'll have to link me to your fic :-D

**Nancy Nickerson – **Glad I surprised someone ;) And as for Ned, well, I promise I'll write him in just for you.

**Nikki – **I'm such a stickler about grammar and formatting it isn't funny, so you don't have to worry about that ;) And I'm glad I've got you so interested.

**Rutu – **She was staring up because Frank is upstairs and she's trying to figure out how to talk to him. :)

**Drewnhardy – **I love that kind of reaction. Here's your update

**A/N: **This is shorter than the others, I think, but I wanted to give you something.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Nancy knocked lightly on Frank's bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Door's open."

Pushing on it, she walked in slowly, then turned to close it behind her. Still facing the door, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before turning back around. "I just spoke with Con Riley."

"Oh?" Frank didn't look at her and she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was trying to appear disinterested, though he wasn't quite succeeding.

"He had some interesting information. He found a connection between the other two victims."

Frank froze in the process of sitting up. "What?" He barely managed to say the word.

"They're both gay."

She was quiet for a while after that, allowing the words to hang in the air in the hopes of getting some sort of reaction out of Frank. It took a while, but he didn't disappoint her.

He didn't speak, didn't do much at all. But he blinked and before he turned away, she could see the expression on his face change. She walked toward his desk, pulling out the chair and sitting on it backwards. "Con doesn't have any proof linking your attack to the others, but if you don't talk to him soon and tell him what's going on, he's going to have to go to your parents with what he knows."

"He doesn't know anything."

"He thinks he does," she said quietly. "So do I."

-------------------------

Frank stared at Nancy. Even if he'd wanted to speak, he didn't think he'd have been able to. He blinked suddenly at the tears that sprang to his eyes, angry at himself for how much he'd been letting his emotions control him in the last few days.

He swallowed and forced himself to look over at her. "Do you?"

"Frank, don't do this; there's no point. We both know each other better than that, and I can see right through you. Don't do this," she said again.

He looked away; this was why he hadn't wanted to see her, why he'd tried to push her away. It wasn't that Nancy knew him better than Joe did; she didn't, not really. But Joe wouldn't push the way Nancy would. He was more willing to back off if Frank asked him to, which meant Joe was safer.

"You know what Con thinks, Frank. And what I think. Is it true?"

Typical Nancy, right to the point and better able than anyone to make him feel guilty if he lied. Not to mention, she would know in a second, just as Joe would. He loved being so close to his brother and he valued his friendship with Nancy, but sometimes…

"Frank, please. It's me, and Joe. It's your parents. You have nothing to be afraid of, Frank."

"No," he finally managed to say. "Don't tell mom and dad, please."

"Tell them what, Frank?"

He glared at her, knowing exactly what she was doing and unwillingly to go along with her. "You know what."

He could tell from the look in her eyes that she wanted to continue playing coy, but for the same reasons he hadn't lied to her, he knew she wouldn't pursue it. And, she didn't. Instead, she just nodded and said softly, "I don't understand why you felt the need to hide it from me, from Joe – and from your parents even still."

The expression on Nancy's face was so full of concern that no matter how much he wanted to tell her to back off, that it wasn't her business and he had nothing more to say, he couldn't. "I have my reasons."

Her frown deepened at that and for a moment Frank wondered if he was reading her right. She looked some combination of scared… and guilty. "Is it… is it something I said? Something I did?"

Frank cocked his head to one side, studying her face while he tried to understand what she was asking. But his head still hurt too much and he really didn't feel up to even having this conversation – let alone thinking too hard while trying to decipher what was going on inside this woman's mind. "What are you talking about?"

"Why you didn't tell me, why you wouldn't talk to me in the hospital, why you didn't want to admit it even just now. Did I say or do something to make you feel like you couldn't talk to me?" He could almost see her mind working, trying to figure out what she might have done.

He shook his head quickly. "It wasn't you, and it wasn't Joe. Just… something my dad said…" he trailed off. "I was afraid that if anyone knew, then they'd find out and I wasn't ready to deal with that. I'm still not."

There were both relief and confusion in her eyes. "I can tell." She paused. "What… what happened with your father? If you don't mind my asking?"

He was silent for a few minutes, trying to decide what to say – if he chose to answer her at all. "A kid – son of a friend of dad's – was beaten to death in his high school locker room because he was gay. A couple of his teammates from the basketball team ended up being charged. We were watching the news and the story came on and dad told me how he'd talked to his friend and the guy hadn't known about his son and as upset as he was about the kid being killed he couldn't get past him being gay."

"Frank, you aren't holding how your dad's friend feels against your dad, are you?"

He shook his head. "You know me better than that." He sighed, leaning back to rest his head on the pillows; it was pounding again and he had at least another hour until he could take anything more for it. "When the story changed he looked at me and said, 'I'm glad neither of you boys is like that; I couldn't imagine having to deal with what Nathan is.'" He quoted his father back to her word-for-word, the comment burned into his memory.

Nancy sat quietly for a few seconds before saying, "Frank, I'm sure—"

He didn't give her the chance to finish, knowing what she planned to say before she could say it. "Those were his exact words, Nan." With his eyes, he pleaded with her to understand.

Before either of them said another word, the front door downstairs opened and closed and Frank heard Joe sing out, "Honey, I'm home!"

Frank closed his eyes. "Nan—"

"I won't tell him." She paused. "You will."

His eyes flew open and he jerked up in bed, wincing at the dizziness that washed over him as a result of the sudden movement. "What? Nancy—"

"Frank, you said yourself that what you're afraid of is your dad finding out. If you don't go to the police, he's going to, which means you _have_ to talk to Con Riley. Are you really comfortable with the idea of talking to Riley about something that even Joe doesn't know?" She paused. "How do you think he'd react if he found out?"

He sagged back down against his pillows and shook his head. "It's not just dad."

"Frank, Joe is one of the most tolerant and accepting people I know. You can't seriously be afraid he'll judge you over something like this. You could _kill_ someone and that kid would stand by you, no matter what happened."

"I know. And that's why I don't want to tell him."

Confusion was written all over her face. "Frank, are you feeling okay?"

"No," he replied shortly. "But I'm being serious. I know Joe looks up to me and I don't want to let him down."

Nancy stared at him. "If you weren't already concussed, I'd slap you upside the head."

He started. "What?"

"I'm going to repeat myself here once and once only, so listen up. 'You could kill someone and that kid would stand by you,'" she quoted to him. "Joe won't care, except maybe to be hurt that you didn't talk to him first. He's a lot more sensitive – and mature – than you give him credit for, Frank. I don't think he'd feel let down and I don't think he'd judge you. I think he'd just want you to be happy. Which you obviously aren't at this point in time."

"Nancy, please."

"How are you going to tell the police something you can't tell your own brother?" Her voice was level and not quite accusatory, but not entirely sympathetic either.

-------------------------

Joe hung his jacket up and frowned, glancing up the stairs. Maybe everyone was asleep. "No," he corrected himself aloud. "Frank's light was on."

Shrugging, he decided they hadn't heard him and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator and a couple of cookies from the tray on the counter before returning to the front hall. He mounted the stairs slowly, tucking the bottle under his arm to unscrew the cap, and at the top of the steps saw light coming from under his brother's closed door.

Using his elbow, he knocked on the door. "Anybody home?"

There was a moment of silence and then he heard Frank's muffled voice. "Yeah, come in."

Joe pushed the door open, pausing when he saw Nancy sitting in Frank's desk chair. "You guys having a party without me?" he asked lightly, affecting a wounded expression.

"Not exactly," Nancy replied, sliding backwards and standing up. "I'll leave you two alone."

"You don't have to go, Nan," Joe told her. "I'm just going to head to bed in a few minutes anyway."

"Yes, I do." Joe frowned, not missing the look she shot in Frank's direction. Something was up. Nancy took a step toward the bed, reaching for Frank's hand and giving it a light squeeze before stepping back and heading in Joe's direction. "Good night, boys."

"Night, Nancy," Frank said, and Joe echoed his brother.

Once she was gone, Joe took the seat she'd vacated and studied Frank's face. Something was _definitely_ up.


End file.
